“Thank you for the lighter, Nancy,” I said, holding it in front of me as I descended the concrete stairs leading down from the hatch that we’d forced open. It was proving to be more of a journey than I’d expected as we’d traveled down something like ten stories rather than the half-dozen at most I’d expected. I was carrying a rifle on my back via leather harness and had a knife stuck in my pocket protector.
Nancy was the best armed. She had Wilbur’s M16 mounted on a similar harness to mine. She had a machete tied to her belt while holding her flashlight. Carrie was carrying a hockey stick she’d modified with barbed wire, a knife, and razors. Her flashlight was affixed to the side. She was also wearing a hot pink backpack that looked adorable with her winter wear. Cassie had chosen to forego any armaments and was just holding a flashlight. Not exactly the best weapons we could be carrying but it was the best we could manage.
“I don’t know why you want one,” Nancy said, following me. “All of us have a flashlight.”
“Including Benedict Anne-old,” Carrie said, pausing. “Okay, that’s a terrible name for you, Cassie. I’ll work harder.”
“I’m just more comfortable with a lighter,” I said, frowning as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “Not that we apparently need it.”
Stretching out in front of us was an enormous glowing underground lake that had a single dirt path leading through the center of it. The water was bioluminescent, and the walls were covered in a glowing fungus. It was a natural cave rather than an artificial construction and I wasn’t sure how this sort of geological formation could exist in Kansas. Then I remembered H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Mound” that said the state was riddled with underground passages, tunnels, and even civilizations of cannibal Morlock-esque creatures. Grandpa Jeremiah had been a friend of the real H.P. Lovecraft, the one my hospital prison had been named after, and told the author all about the supernatural. Was this another of the secrets he’d told him?
“What the hell is this?” Nancy asked, surveying the sight.
“A twist,” I said, putting away my lighter. I then took out my knife. The rifle would have been a better weapon, but something felt more appropriate about the knife. Maybe my sister was correct that slashers, well, had to slash.
“The compound was constructed here to take advantage of the natural wellsprings of magic,” Cassie said, putting away her flashlight. “Before humanity darkened the Earth with its presence, the tunnels below were populated by the dark elves. Creatures that wielded eldritch magics and were far superior in many ways to mere mortals.”
“Super,” Carrie said, clutching her hockey stick tightly. “We’ve gone from slasher movie to J.R.R. Tolkien. Are we going to encounter a Balrog? Because if we’re going to encounter a Balrog then I’m out. Sorry, Nancy, but your friends will have to die horribly. I’m allergic to flaming death demons and armies of goblins.”
“There are no goblins down here,” Nancy said.
“Are you sure?” Carrie asked, looking around. “Because it looks like there could be goblins down here.”
“It does have a certain magical fantasy kingdom aesthetic,” I admitted.
Had we stumbled onto some ancient and accursed occult site? What sort of evil lurked here just beyond the surface of the lake?
“You talk funny when you’re nervous, Will,” Carrie said. “Never change.”
“I’m pretty sure there are no goblins down here or Balrogs. Maybe a claw machine or one of those stupid ‘engrave a penny’ things.” Nancy reached down and picked up a rusted metal sign that said, MANCUSO CAVES: MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR OF FUN. It was sitting next to a bunch of badly yellowed color brochures from a rusted metal wire stand.
“Oh,” Carrie said, frowning. “Well that sucks. I was hoping for accursed occult location and we’re at a roadside tourist trap.”
“Sorry,” Cassie chuckled, an evil smile on her face.
“What’s with the build up?” I asked.
“Never let the truth get in the way of a good story,” Cassie said. “This place was the home of the ’77 child murders where a mad miner went on a killing spree of tourists. He was influenced by all the Native ghosts from the tribe that was driven here by the US Calvary. They starved here with the fungus driving them mad before they died.”
“It says here that it was founded in 1984 and was originally a quarry,” Nancy said, reading the brochure. “The bioluminesce and fungus were imported in.”
Cassie shrugged. “Like I said. The truth is that it was a failed attempt at building a tourist attraction. Turned out to have been a tax write-off for my father and the Mines of Mystery went out of business after a few years only to be repurposed. Not exactly the story of legend.”
“I dunno, William would probably be fascinated by how much money they saved,” Carrie replied.
“You’d be correct,” I replied.
Nancy shook her head. “I still don’t know why they chose to build the compound here. I mean, was it just the proximity to Wounded Buffalo?”
“It was where the Fraternity was founded,” I said. “I don’t know why it was done here of all places but why not on top of an artificial cave is perhaps a better question.”
There was something about this place that made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t just the creepy atmosphere. It took a lot more than a natural cave formation to make me uncomfortable. There was something supernatural afoot and as we approached the compound, I felt it grow stronger. One thing was for certain, this wasn’t an “escape tunnel” and I didn’t know if Cassie was deliberately lying to us or just paraphrasing.
“I can see the appeal of this place. Lots of places to store the bodies,” Carrie replied, closing her eyes and reaching out with one hand into the air. “I can feel hundreds of them down here. So, ironically, the truth is stranger than fiction. It is the dumping ground for an evil cult of women-hating psychopaths.”
I reached out with my powers, wondering if I could sense the victims of violence as well as the perpetrators. Indeed, I found there was a lot of bodies at the bottom of the lake. Things ravaged and fed on by something else.
“536,” I replied.
“Excuse me?” Nancy asked.
Cassie just chuckled.
“536 bodies,” I said. “That’s how many they’ve dumped here. All murdered by violence over the course of the last ten years.”
“Jesus,” Nancy said.
“I’m sorry, but you need to change that. That’s too close to an actual swear,” Carrie said. “Have you considered saying Jeebus instead? Or holy pogo sticks?”
“I’m not a five-year-old,” Nancy said.
“I beg to differ,” Carrie said. “Also, you swore in my brain, so we’re going to have to work on you recovering your sweet innocent good girl act.”
Nancy gave her a hand signal.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about, you’re ruining your brand,” Carrie said. “How are we going to get a movie made of you if you’re not needlessly stereotypical?”
“I don’t think anyone is going to be making a movie out of me,” Nancy said. “Besides, Hollywood is apparently run by a bunch of Satanists.”
“Well, we knew that,” I said.
“Just a few,” Cassie said, cheerfully. She started walking across the land bridge dividing the lake. Lakes? I wasn’t sure whether it was technically one or two. “Besides, when I’m owner of Pantheon Corp, I’ll be able to make movies about whoever I want. You could find yourselves big stars.”
“I have no interest in being a star,” I said, dryly. “I am a fugitive.”
“Money can fix all problems,” Cassie said, gesturing. “Look at this place. No one cares as long as the proper bribes are paid.”
“You don’t have to sound so proud of it,” Nancy said, disgusted.
“It is what it is,” Cassie said. “Besides, think of how much power you could get as a slasher with your own franchise.”
“And the sacrifices,” I pointed out. That was what this place was, really. It was a slaughterhouse that provided endless numbers of lives to the Red Gods. It was pathetic in a way, as they were grasping at every little bit of power they could while actually getting less and less.
Perhaps, the Spirit of the Hunt said. Perhaps they are simply getting less and less from their masters. Perhaps the Red Gods have grown fat and lazy on the fast food diet of mortal cinema and industrialized cruelty. Perhaps one of their number wishes to shake things up and see what sort of gods might replace them if they should die.
Can gods die? I asked her.
Yes, if you kill them, the Spirit of the Hunt said.
“You’re freaking me out here, Cassie,” Nancy said as we reached the halfway point across the land bridge. “You can’t really want to be involved in any of this after the bad guys, for lack of a better term, are killed.”
“Yes, bad guys is the wrong term for them,” Carrie replied. “We’re bad guys. They’re evil guys.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Cassie asked, ignoring my sister. “They tried to force me to marry a man I didn’t love. They brainwashed me. I won’t even begin to discuss the abuses I suffered growing up in that sick household—”
“You sure?” Carrie interrupted. “We could share stories. I recall being traded by my dad for a pack of cigarettes to the creepy guy at the supermarket. William ended up beating the guy to death.”
“He didn’t die,” I replied.
“Unconscious people don’t usually wake up. Maybe like half the time,” Carrie said.
“Yes, I suppose that does make Batman’s no killing rule laughable,” I muttered, realizing the number of people I’d killed was perhaps higher than my Mark of Cain said.
“You’re really going to have to introduce me to this Batman guy. A slasher who doesn’t kill is a weird bird, or mammal as the case may be,” Carrie said. “Still, it was an inspirational moment for me.”
Cassie frowned, looking upset that we’d distracted from her speech. “What I’m saying is that I deserve every dime that my father and uncle possess. Their deaths are not nearly enough compensation. Their empire is mine by right.”
“That’s a little supervillain-esque,” Nancy said. “What the hell was that?”
“Is it the Watcher in the Water?” Carrie asked.
“This is not the Mines of Moria!” I snapped, looking to the glowing lake, only to see a long hideous tendril slither through the water. “Okay, maybe it is.”
“It’s a shoggoth,” a voice spoke nearby, familiar but slightly echoing as if it was coming from a phone with a bad reception.
“A shoggoth?” I asked, turning my head. They were creatures I’d heard of in fiction but hadn’t been aware were real until now. That was less important than finding out who had found us, though.
To my surprise, standing at the other end of the land bridge was the figure of Marge from The Last Stop Diner. She resembled her normal self but, notably, had a shotgun blast injury that had taken away half of her head. There was also the fact that she was translucent, which told me that she was now a ghost. I know, what a brilliant deduction.
“Well, I guess we won’t be going back for seconds,” Carrie said, looking at me. “It’s a shame, Cujo really liked the sausages.”
“Those weren’t sausages,” I said, looking back.
“What were they if they weren’t?” Carrie said, before blinking. “They were that body part, huh? Waste not want not, I guess.”
I grimaced, speaking for all the men in the world.
“What are you looking at?” Cassie asked, confused.
“A ghost,” Carrie replied. “You don’t have very heightened mystical senses, do you, Cassius? See, that’s a pun on the famous Roman traitor and your name.”
“It doesn’t work if you have to explain the joke,” Cassie replied.
Carrie glared. “You’d be on fire now if I had pyrokinesis.”
“Pyrokinesis is bad Latin,” Cassie said. “Stephen King screwed up his Latin.”
“You take that back!” Carrie said, horrified. “I am ashamed to have my name sound like yours!”
“Normally, when I show up, I am the center of attention,” Marge said, advancing on us. She pulled out a long chef’s knife and glared at us. “You children ruined me and are going to pay the penalty.”
Nancy took a step in front of me, holding her machete tight. “Don’t worry, William, I’ll protect you.”
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “If it’s alright, I’d like to talk here rather than fight.”
“What?” Marge asked.
“What?” Nancy echoed.
“Are you serious?” Carrie asked, appalled.
“What kind of slasher are you?” Cassie said, showing that I had the support of absolutely no one here.
“Your confidence fills me with a warm sense of joy,” I replied, dryly. “Marge, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am sorry about what happened at your establishment but we’re here to kill the Fraternity.”
Marge snorted then burst out laughing. “Oh Lord Below, you’re serious. You came here to try to take on the Fraternity of Orion? Oh, man, I was going to chop you all up and possess one of you, but what I’d do is child’s play to what they’re planning here. Do you know who, exactly, you’re messing with?”
“No, we do not,” I said, speaking for everyone else. “What happened to you?”
Marge growled. “Those damned Fraternity townies burned my diner down, my brother’s mechanic shop, and my slaughtering shed! With me in it! It’s just rude, son! I think they were looking for your Nancy girl there too.”
“Yeah, that is my name,” Nancy said, looking ready and willing to take Marge on. Taking down my father had apparently given her a confidence about sending slasher ghosts off to Hell. Either that or she always had an abundance of confidence in taking on slashers.
“Where’s your father?” Marge asked. “I don’t see his ghost anywhere.”
“He’s indisposed,” I replied.
“In Hell!” Carrie said, dramatically. “Bwhahahaha.”
I glared at her.
“What?” Carrie asked.
Marge frowned. “They’ve been doing all sorts of black magic rituals in town. They’re summoning the Red Gods here, son, and they have a need of a lot of things that are best left hidden. The Necronomicon, a sacrifice of a pure-hearted woman, and a circle of the meanest, most evil souls in the world. It looks like you brought some of the requirements here. I can feel one of them coming from your sister.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, staring at the ghost.
“Now, what’s a shoggoth?” Nancy asked.
“It’s an extradimensional amorphous creature that can assume any shape and survive in any environment,” Carrie said, pulling out the Necronomicon from her backpack and opening it. “Presumably, the Cassidy brothers summoned it in order to serve as a guard or something.”
Cassie stared at the Necronomicon hungrily, her eyes as big as dish plates and as predatory as a wolf’s.
I stared at Carrie, opened my mouth, closed it, then felt my head. “Carrie, why in the world did you bring that here?”
“Uh, duh, why would I leave it back in the car where anyone could find it?” Carrie asked.
A monstrous black tentacle lashed out from the lake and smashed the top of the rocks above the doorway we’d come through, burying it under several tons of rubble. It threatened to bring down the roof on top of us.
Nancy, Carrie, and I all looked at Cassie simultaneously.
“What? Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with this,” Cassie said.
“You lead them down here to betray them,” Marge said, waving her knife. “Funny thing about being someone who knows the gluttony of people, I can see it when they’re envious little trollops.”
“Don’t shame trollops,” Carrie replied, sniffing the air. “Some of us are proud of it.”
Cassie growled.
Nancy frowned and grabbed her by the arm before forcing it behind her back. “Don’t move a muscle, Cassie. You’re now our prisoner.”
Cassie scoffed. “You’re the idiots who followed me down here. Did you really think walking right into a trap made you less vulnerable? This isn’t a movie.”
“I think I can probably control the shoggoth and send it to eat everyone upstairs,” Carrie said, flipping through the Necronomicon. “I mean, I might have to sacrifice someone to do it, but wherever would I find a human sacrifice here?’
Cassie’s eyes widened.
Marge chuckled. “I was going to kill you all in revenge for what they did to me. However—”
She didn’t get to respond because her spirit exploded into a pile of burning ectoplasm on the floor, a blonde woman in a white tank top and black sweatpants was holding a spear behind her. She was accompanied by a half-dozen lovely young women in camping attire.
She blinked as she surveyed us. “Sis?”
“Summer?” Nancy asked.
Huh.